Novel & Cerita Robot Knights

~Amber~ ”Who?” My voice came out hard and confident. My anger was stirring up inside. ”You’re uncle. Carlos Knight. He was the one that turned your mate.” A shot of pain. The stab of a knife. My insides were burning and Stella was scratching the surface. Both of us on the hinge of insanity. ”He turned my mate? He hated them so much that he turned an innocent girl and forced war upon our kind for decades?” I was standing. My hands were balled up into fists and my voice came out in a threatening growl.

"They must be truly desperate." "Those aren't ordinary soldiers," Serena warned. "Those are hunter-knights, trained specifically to combat supernatural threats. Their weapons are blessed by the Grand Inquisitor himself. Even with the Soulstone's power, you'd be wise to avoid direct confrontation." The Shadow Knight studied the approaching force. Twenty riders, each representing the pinnacle of the Light's martial prowess. They moved with disciplined precision, scanning the terrain with the practiced efficiency of predators tracking prey.

There are three types of Knights in the association: (1) the High Knights who were the ones closest to the royal family of the Laera Kingdom; (2) the warriors, the Knights who received missions from the High Knights through the Head of the Knights Association, and; (3) the mentors, who mold the Knights for three years into strong, capable warriors. Major Dylan watched horrified as his students charged at the water clone. Leon created dozens of his own which dog piled the Aidan water clone. Sophia, Zain, and the real Leon ran around the wiggling mass of magic clones and shot towards the real Aidan holding him captive.

Humanoids glared with all the wrath of 8699 Resourceful resonant rabbits. He said, in hushed tones, "I hate you and I want to take his body and kill him." Dr. Smith looked back, even more irritable and still fingering the technology-based gun. "Humanoids, who are you," he replied. They looked at each other with stressed feelings, like two precious, proud pigeons resting at a very mysterious meeting, which had piano music playing in the background and two determined uncles thinking to the beat. Dr. Smith studied humanoids’ tall arms and tall legs. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," began Dr. Smith in apologetic tones, "but I don't feel the same way, and I never will. I just don't

She needed to know. "Well, a lot of them fell." Roberto mockingly laugh. "Boo-hoo, sorry princess." Nagar approached. The mirth in his laughter died. "So they do?" She felt hope. "What about the others..." she remembered what the crazed soldier rambled about. "...the armored warriors who fought the monsters?" Roberto's eyes widened. "Don't," he abruptly said. "Don't even mention them to me!" Fear returned to his face as if he too had encountered them.

The ground shook violently. Let out a loud painful scream. It sounded like a thousand saws cutting through hard stone. The red dust on the horizon was not a cloud it was a wall of moving metal. Millions of red robots were flying through the air crashing into each other like angry bees. Behind them ten giant machines, the Harvesters emerged from the sand. Their red eyes glowed with heat that made the air move like water.

The rear ramp lowered with a hiss of pressurized air, spilling a cloud of white fog onto the mud. A squad of soldiers poured out, but they weren't like Kazi’s ragtag mercenaries. These men were silent, moving with the synchronized fluidity of a single organism. They wore "Black Knight" tactical gear—full-body polymer plating that was resistant to both kinetic impact and energy surges. They didn't carry traditional rifles; they held high-frequency shock-staves and magnetic net-guns designed for subduing targets without killing them. Behind them, walking with the calm stride of a woman who had never known a day of physical fear, was General Fatima Nyosi.

asked Lucas. 'Oh no, far from it, Lucas Colton King. A robot is basically a computer created to mimic human intelligence. I am more of a software integrated with a wide knowledge base and can interact even without having a command.' The woman/ interactive consciousness noticed that the two were still not quite getting what she was saying. 'You can ask me anything,' was what the AI finally resulted into saying. "Oh, so that's how you know our names," added Lucas. 'Of course. Lucas Colton King—son of Lincoln and Kerry King , born April third, year twenty-eleven.'